What We Can't Have
by halloween princess
Summary: Charlotte is a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire, living with Erik in his lair beneath the Opera House; but we all want what we can't have. Erik/Christine/Raoul/OC/Erik, if that makes any sense. Please no flames, I'm trying to make Charlotte as non Mary-Sue as possible.
1. Chapter 1

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" Young Meg Giry's voice echoed through the theater, as the chorus girls all huddled together in fear. Andre and Firmin, the current managers of the Opera Populaire, pushed through the heard of girls to centre stage, where Carlotta was obviously overdramatizing the extent of any and all injuries she had just received. "Signora!" Andre exclaimed as he and Firmin rushed to help the prima donna to her feet "We must apologize, but these things do happen!" Carlotta shoved the managers away in a rage "These… _things_ have happened to me twice this month!" her shrill screech cut through the chorus girls' gossiping, putting all eyes and ears on the diva. The stagehands quickly rushed to put the fallen scenery back in place, just as Joseph Buquet staggered on stage. "You!" Carlotta shouted, pointing a finger at Buquet's chest "Is this your doing?" she demanded, half hoping that it was. Buquet gave her a dark look "I think we all know who it was" he grimaced, in the voice he used when he scared the girls with stories of the Phantom.

Carlotta took a small step back, a small glisten of fear in her eyes. But her fright was quickly replaced with her usual abrasiveness "I will not sing until you two figure out what to do about _him_" she said, glaring at the managers. She stormed off of the stage, Piangi at her heels, and Andre and Firmin chasing after the pair, shouting apologies and begging that Carlotta stay. There was a buzz of indistinct chatter among those who remained on stage, before Madame Giry rapped her cane on the ground, bringing all conversations to a halt. "Ladies," she began with a cold calmness "Are we not dancers?" The ballerinas all rushed in to their positions, every single one of them wearing a look of uncertainty on their faces. The pianist began to play a piece from _Faust_, and the girls moved gracefully to the music, as Madame Giry stalking across the stage, occasionally shouting corrections. Only one of the chorus girls noticed the man dressed completely in black, save for the white mask, watching the whole ordeal from the rafters.

Charlotte smiled to herself, knowing he was watching her – and Christine Daae, of course. He always watched the rehearsals, whether he planned upon ruining them or not. The dance dragged on slowly until the song ended with a cadence, and the dancers waited patiently for Madame Giry's criticism. "Your arabesques are sloppy, and your legs need to be far more straight" she tapped her cane on one the front most girl's legs to emphasize her point. "Practice, for we only have two rehearsals left before the opera" and with that, the older woman strode offstage. The dancers clumped together, as they did after every rehearsal, and made their way to the dressing rooms. "I don't understand why she's so strict" Christine said, pulling bobby pins from her hair. Meg sighed "Mother's always been this way – well, when it comes to dancing anyways" They all piled in to the mirror covered room, brushing knots from their hair and changing from their colourful ballet costumes.

"Can you believe the Phantom sabotaged La Carlotta again?" Meg whispered across the dressing room table, as though afraid her mother - or someone worse - may hear. "Yes actually. She acts like such a…prima donna" Charlotte said, wiping her makeup off with a tissue. Christine laughed "I wonder why that would be" "Oh, you know what I mean" Charlotte said, rolling her eyes. "Do you think the Phantom actually looks how Buquet describes him? That he's that grotesque?" Christine asked with a curious expression. Charlotte looked at her reflection in the mirror "I'm not sure. But then again, our source of information _is_ the drunkard scene shifter" Meg looked around the room, before finally setting her gaze on the clock at the dresser "Oh, look at what time it is! I had no idea we'd been rehearsing all day!" Meg exclaimed. Charlotte nodded and stood "In which case, I should be heading home" she said, walking around the room and arranging her things "I don't understand why you don't just live here with the rest of us! It'd be so much more convenient for you" Christine said, trying vainly once again to convince Charlotte to board with the rest of the chorus girls. Charlotte smiled at her friend "Oh Christine! I live in Paris, it's really no big deal; there are girls from around the world who need to be staying here. "

Both Meg and Christine sighed, before saying goodbye to Charlotte, who made her way out of the dressing room and through the maze of hallways that the Opera House was comprised of. Charlotte arrived at the top of the dark, winding stone staircase, and looked around her quickly. Deciding no one was anywhere near her, she hurriedly descended into the blackness. At the bottom of the stairs was a winding labyrinth of pitch black stone corridors; nearly impossible to navigate unless one knew where they were going. She turned corner after corner, the air getting colder and denser as she neared the lake at the heart of the cellars. Moments later, the darkness was slightly broken by the ripples of the lake's surface. The small boat was still docked at the water's edge where Charlotte had left it that morning, meaning that he had used one of the secret passages to watch the rehearsal from the rafters instead of crossing the lake. She placed the pair of ballet shoes she had carried from the dressing room at the front of the boat, and then stepped into the boat herself, carefully distributing her weight in the center of the vessel. She pushed off of the concrete 'dock', using the long staff that served as an oar to navigate the walls and sharp corners that jutted out from the bottom of the lake to the low ceiling.

For a while, the only sound in the heavy silence was the movement of the boat through the water, until Charlotte came upon the lair. He was working on Don Juan Triumphant, his latest operatic masterpiece. Quipped, dissonant notes filled the air, with the occasional pause and flipping of paper. Charlotte steered the boat to the short staircase, carefully disembarking the boat with her ballet slippers in hand and stepping lightly up to the candle-lit room. It seemed the minute her feet touched the cold ground, Erik stopped everything he was doing; it wasn't a gradual silence, it was quick and immediate. "It's risky coming here from within the Opera House Charlotte" he said, standing slowly from his organ. She began to walk in his direction "No one saw me" she shrugged. "How can you be sure?" he asked, but not in a panicked tone whatsoever. "Because not everyone is as sneaky as you" Erik was wearing his mask, as per usual. Charlotte constantly told him he didn't need to wear it around her, but he never listened – it was almost a security he needed for himself.

She met him halfway across the room, in front of his desk, which was covered in dried red wax and scribbled-on papers. They stopped in front of each other, Charlotte placing her ballet shoes by the arm chair, reaching her left hand to touch his porcelain mask, and his hand instinctively flying up to grab hers. She looked at him reassuringly, and remembering that it was Charlotte, he let her take the mask off. At first, his face had been somewhat off-putting to her, but after living with him for so many years it didn't even faze her anymore. She sighed, looking at the deformed side of his face, which was bleeding slightly in some places "I told you, if you wear the mask for too long, it'll irritate your skin…" "It's not like I have many options, do I?" Erik mumbled. Charlotte rolled her eyes and disappeared in to the bathroom, returning with a bottle of salve in her hand. She pushed the bottle into his palm, and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek, brushing past him to the set of double doors that were set to the far right corner of the room. She pushed one of the oak doors open, softly pressing it shut behind her.

Charlotte's room was furnished similarly to the rest of Erik's home - with dark woods and golden paint. There was a four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a dresser and a desk, each littered with drawings and sketches on parchment paper – everything from roses, to candles, to the Opera House. She loved to draw; it gave her something to do in her (rather minimal) spare time… it was almost the same infatuation Erik had with his music, just not on such a high level. Charlotte fluffed her hair out and changed from her green cotton dress to her dark blue nightdress, before flopping back against the bed. She pushed a series of portraits off of the blanket, and crawled underneath the warmth it provided in the cold cellars. Outside of the thick door, she could hear the notes of Don Juan Triumphant, Erik playing them softer than usual to allow her to sleep. She blew out the candle that flickered on her desk, which was pushed next to her bed, and laid her head against the cool pillow, drifting off to sleep with Erik's voice singing songs in her head.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning came quickly, as it always did when Charlotte found herself exhausted from practice. She dressed in her usual rehearsal 'uniform': a black bodysuit with a slightly poufy white skirt on top. At the back corner of her room lay a slightly cracked full length mirror – she'd taken it from the music room after Erik had broken the top corner of it in a rage. Charlotte fixed her hair in to an incredibly tight bun and tucked the loose strands behind her ear. Softly pressing open her bedroom doors, she lightly stepped across the lair to pick up her ballet shoes by the arm chair. However, she discovered that they were not where she had last left them, but were instead placed atop the organ, next to a pile of hand written sheet music. Charlotte picked up her worn shoes in one hand, while using the other to light a few of the candles around the room, letting the dancing flames partially illuminate the dark stone. Erik was most likely asleep; whether in his coffin or the swan bed Charlotte didn't know – it wasn't like he slept very long either way.

She traipsed down to the dock, repeating her efforts of placing her shoes in the boat and gliding along the water. When she reached the other side, she started down the corridor, however taking a different set of halls than she had the previous night. This particular set lead to a small, empty room, with nothing but a staircase, which lead to a set of cellar doors that locked from the inside. Charlotte quietly slid open the lock, and cringed as she wooden doors creaked on their rusted hinges (she made a note to have those oiled). She peered out in to the Paris streets, blanketed with snow and silent. A quick scan of the area showed that no one was outside, save for a few alley cats, and Charlotte slipped outside. She tightly wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, vainly trying to warm herself from the snowfall. The street she followed was a few buildings long, and bent around to face the square in front of the Opera Populaire.

Charlotte sprinted through the snow, through the square, and up the front steps of the Opera: it was a tedious process that she and Erik had created – it made her look as though she was coming from 'her home in Paris'. She entered the grand foyer, a magnificent piece of architecture (which Erik basically designed, of course), and brushed the snow from her skirt and hair. "Charlotte!" Meg rushed down the staircase and pulled Charlotte into a tight embrace "Meg! Must you do this every morning? You make it seem as though I haven't seen you in years!" she told the little Giry, pulling herself from Meg's arms. The ballerina simply laughed as the two of them rushed towards the dressing room. Charlotte fixed her bun in the candle light of the dark dressing room, removing her shawl and changing her brown laced boots to ballet shoes. "Did you hear? We've gotten a new patron!" Meg exclaimed excitedly. Charlotte smiled a nodded "Mhm. Although I think I'll miss M. Lefevre" "I hear it'll be the Vicomte de Chagny replacing him!" Meg clasped her hands together excitedly "_And_ he's visiting the Opera today!" She squeaked.

Charlotte couldn't help but smile at the little Giry's enthusiasm. It was exciting, to think that the Vicomte would be funding the Opera – although Charlotte knew Erik would have a problem on his hands if the newest patron did not comply to his demands as easily as M. Lefevre; the current managers already gave him a slight challenge. Slowly the other chorus girls trickled in to the room, waiting for Madame Giry to fetch them for rehearsals, as the rehearsals began at different times nearly every day, depending on the prima donnas, the orchestra, the conductor, and other such factors. Moments after all of the girls had gathered, Madame Giry opened the door, standing perfectly straight and clad in black. Without a word from the ballet mistress, the sixteen-ought chorus girls quickly rushed down to the stage, knowing their silent cue to begin rehearsal.

During one of the more lyrical dances, Andre and Firmin came strutting down the centre isle of the theater, a well-dressed gentleman behind them. He had golden blonde hair, and looked in his appearance to be from a very well off family. The three men ascended the small staircase that led up to the stage, and stood out of the way of the dancers in the front most stage-left wing. Charlotte and Christine were dancing in their places towards the front of the rest of the girls, Meg slightly behind the pair (Charlotte wasn't sure if the placement was based on pure talent, or upon Erik's 'recommendations'). After patiently waiting for the end of the number, Andre stepped to the middle of the stage "Excuse me! Everyone!" he called to get everyone's attention. As soon as the noise silenced, he continued "Ladies and gentleman, as you all must know, we have a new patron funding the Opera Populaire…" he gestured for the well-dressed man to come forward "M. le Vicomte Raoul de Chagny"

Raoul gave a slight bow and a pleasant smile at the girls. "Let us introduce you to some of our principle dancers!" Firmin exclaimed. Raoul gave him a quizzical look "Where is La Carlotta?" he inquired, not unkindly nor disappointedly. The two managers exchanged a weary look, and the chorus girls fell into a buzz of gossip "La Carlotta is… unavailable at the moment" Andre told him with an awkward kind of grin. Firmin quickly rushed over to Charlotte and Christine, putting a hand on either of their shoulders "May I present the lovely Miss Christine Daaé and Miss Charlotte Prideux, two of our star performers!" Raoul kissed Charlotte's hand "It's a pleasure to meet you" he said. Charlotte smiled warmly "Likewise, Monsieur" He then turned to Christine, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke "Little Lotte" he breathed, apparently much to Christine's delight, as she grasped him in a soft embrace. Raoul smiled and hugged her as well, choosing to ignore the slight looks of shock on Andre and Firmin's faces. "Raoul, I can't believe it's you!" Christine beamed. "It seems as though they've met before" Andre said to Firmin as the two managers left the pair to catch up.

Charlotte smiled inwardly as Raoul and Christine began a long, winded conversation on everything that had happened since they'd last seen each other. At some point, Charlotte must have begun to drift off, as she was slightly startled when Christine grabbed her by the hand, and shook out of her reverie in time to hear Christine re-introduce her to the Vicomte "Raoul, this is one of my best friends, Charlotte" she said brightly "Charlotte, this is Raoul. We've known each other since we were children" Christine added, though Charlotte wasn't sure if it was out of pride or to reassure her about the first name basis. Raoul turned to Charlotte "I must admit Charlotte, you are an amazing dancer" he told her, and look of impressiveness written across his face "And very beautiful, as well". Charlotte felt a light blush rise across her cheeks, as she thanked him for his kindness. There was no denying that Raoul was very handsome; but Charlotte wouldn't dare pursue him – after all, he and Christine seemed to have quite the history, let alone what Erik would think… or say… or do.

The trio continued to get acquainted, chatting lightly and laughing. Just as Christine was part way through telling Raoul about her coming to the Opera Populaire, Charlotte caught a glimpse of a fluttering black cape in the rafters, and vaguely saw the outline of a white mask. Charlotte quickly averted her eyes from above them to Christine, though Raoul saw her upwards gaze a flicked his sight to the rafters as well. After seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he gave Charlotte a quizzical look, but quickly shaking it off and returning his attentions to Christine (much to Charlotte's relief). It was by this time that the rest of the ballet girls had skittered off stage to change costumes and prepare for the next dance in _Faust_, and Charlotte politely excused herself from the conversation with a quick "It was a lovely meeting you" to Raoul, and "I'll see you later" to Christine. She walked off in to the slight darkness of the backstage area, curving around a piece of scenery and up a set of underused stairs. At the top of the stairs was a solid door that led to the lower parts of the catwalk, which gave a slight creak under Charlotte's weight being placed upon it.

Buquet was in a drunken sleep behind the opened curtains on the stage, so there was no danger of him finding her up there – and no one else dared to be on the catwalk for fear of the Phantom. That fear was validated upon Charlotte almost running into Erik, his masked face looking down at hers. "You and Christine seem to be getting along with our new patron" he said in his melodic voice. "Is that jealousy I hear?" Charlotte asked him amusedly. She swore she heard him growl, and she rolled her eyes "Christine and Raoul have a past," Erik raised his eyebrow at the use of the Vicomte's first name "and no matter how much you love her, nothing is going to change that" she told him. Even in the dark, she could see Erik smirk "We'll see about that" he said smugly, as he suddenly disappeared into the blackness of the rafters. Charlotte sighed heavily, knowing that when the Phantom wanted something, he got it. This was _far_ from over.

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Hey everybody! Could I get a few reviews to make sure I'm not writing to thin air? Merci :)


	3. Chapter 3

Raoul was standing in the manager's office with Andre and Firmin, looking as cross and confused as ever. The note had been waiting menacingly on the oak desk when Raoul had returned to the managers.

_M. Vicomte de Chagny:_

_It has been brought to my attention of your involvement with Miss Christine Daaé. I shall warn you to keep your distance, lest it interfere with Miss Daaé's performing. I advise you to comply – you would not wish to know what I can be capable of._

_Your Obedient Servant, _

_O.G. _

Raoul crushed the note up in his fist, before throwing the ball of paper on the ground. "Who the hell is O.G.?" he demanded of the flustered managers. "The Opera Ghost" Firmin groaned, rolling his eyes. "Opera Ghost?" Raoul asked incredulously "I'm sure I don't need to tell you gentlemen that there are no such things as ghosts" Just as Raoul finished speaking, the two candles placed on the desk blew out seemingly on their own. The Vicomte muttered something under his breath about 'coincidence', as Andre's eyes darted around the room "I assure you Monsieur, this Ghost is very real" he said, with a strained air of calmness. "The Opera Ghost supposedly 'runs' the opera house" Firmin began to explain at Raoul's confused expression "When things have not gone according to _his_ instructions, something bad happens"

"Why don't you just send the police?" The Vicomte inquired. "It's not that simple" Andre said "No one knows exactly _who_ or _where_ he is. The only person who's supposedly seen him is that drunkard Buquet" Raoul gave an aggravated sigh "I don't care who or _what_ he is, I will not take orders from a phantom!" he declared, leaving the office in a fury. Erik smirked from behind the office walls _"So, the boy wishes to do things the difficult way"_ he thought. He followed the Vicomte until Raoul stormed out of the Opera altogether, muttering to himself about how he 'will not be made a fool of'. Erik went along the dark secret passageway until he came to Christine's dressing room, and was standing behind the glass of her full length mirror.

It was a delightful secret that Christine had kept: she had a tutor - her angel of music. Only Erik (and of course Charlotte) knew that this 'angel' was quite the opposite; a phantom. It was getting late when Christine finally slipped quietly in to the dark room for her vocal lesson, shutting the door softly behind her. "Angel?" she meekly asked, waiting for the appearance (or rather, the voice) of her teacher. "Christine" Erik musically answered. Christine's face lit up at the sound "Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen" Christine sang softly, knowing that her tutor loved it when she sang. Erik smiled at that "Come to your angel, Christine" he said, slowly sliding open the mirror and taking a few steps into the darkness, extending his hand to her. Christine seemed mesmerized by Erik, and took his hand without a second thought. He pulled her through the mirror, and guided her down a fairly well-lit passage, watching her expression with amusement.

Erik pulled her through the stone labyrinth, turning corners and switching through passages. At the end of the corridor was the entrance to the lair, the music room more specifically. Erik had decided that after the incident with the Vicomte, he needed Christine – he needed her to know, he needed her to choose him. What he hadn't thought through would be Charlotte's reaction to it all. The pair entered the softly lit room, and Erik pulled away from Christine to sit at his organ. Christine wandered around the music room, looking through the scores, designs and notes strewn about the desk. Her gaze fell on the skull stamp beside the hot red wax, and she momentarily broke out of her trance – that is, until Erik began singing: it was a piece he wrote called "Music of the Night", and was often one he played for Charlotte when she went to bed. Christine turned her attention to her angel, walking towards him and sitting carefully on the stone floor near to the organ bench.

All too soon for Christine, Erik had finished the song, and was bent down to her level. He put his hand under her chin, and tilted her head upwards to look at him eye to eye. She gasped softly, but didn't pull away; instead she moved closer to him – so close that her lips brushed his ever so lightly. Erik gasped and his eyes widened, put he returned the kiss none the less. At that moment, Charlotte appeared in the corridor that led to the other rooms, which was behind Christine. Charlotte backed up slightly into the darkness of the hall: she felt so many things, and she didn't need Christine knowing her secret to add to her troubled thoughts. Even in Erik's state of shock, he noticed her standing there, but before he had the chance to do anything, Charlotte ducked into her bedroom silently.

She sat on her bed, staring at the cold floor, which was still littered with drawings. Charlotte knew he loved Christine….was _obsessed_ with her even. But never had she thought he'd bring her down here, take the risk of exposing her secret. She felt sadness, disappointment, anger and a sort of guilty happiness: she wasn't in love with him though. She just couldn't be. _The same way you can't be in love with Raoul? _a voice in her mind asked. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts completely, which proved impossible. Instead, she kneeled down and shuffled through the papers, eventually finding a few blank sheets. Charlotte sat at her desk, putting the empty sheets in front of her and picking up a stick of charcoal, sketching the beginnings of a mask and a rose.

Outside, Erik and Christine broke apart from the shy, tentative kiss, and stared at each other in a soft, comfortable silence. Erik closed his eyes, and looked down at their hands, which were weaved together. He felt Christine's hand brush the perfect skin on the left side of his face, and leaned in to her touch. Suddenly, Christine's hand shifted to his mask, ripping it off. He screamed in rage and pushed her back slightly, turning away from her "Damn you, you little viper!" he hissed at her. Erik finally turned to face her, but held his hand over the scarred flesh. Christine looked afraid, not of whatever she saw of his face, but of how he was acting towards her – like she was afraid of what he might do. He yanked the mask from her grasp and put it back in place, trying to calm himself. Christine stood, her arms folded across her chest in a self-embrace, waiting for Erik to say something. He moved to stand in front of her, brushing the side of her face the way she had touched his "Christine… we should get back. Those fools who run _my_ theatre will be missing you" he said, taking her by the hand once more, though this time slightly more roughly. Christine followed behind him like a small child who had just been scolded.

Charlotte heard them leave, and breathed a held-in sigh. She ventured back out into the music room, trailing her finger across the organ's keys, her gaze catching on a new pile of sheet music on the stand. She flipped through the score, the song called "The Point of No Return" – the music was beautiful, the lyrics loving and passionate; though Charlotte couldn't help thinking _'He didn't write this for me'_

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Hey everybody! I'd just like to start by saying thanks for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me. On another note, I must apologize for the slight cheesiness of this chapter, but it was necessary for how I'd like this story to work. Any pairing preferences? Things you hope will happen? Next chapter is where I start to spice things up... hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	4. Chapter 4

Charlotte pushed herself along the secret halls, breathing heavily, anxious to get in to the light; the darkness seemed to be smothering her. This particular corridor led to a small alcove in the grand foyer, a large painting covering the entrance to the tunnel. The painting (which of was a portrait of one of the Opera's first patrons) was not one of Charlotte's preferred methods of getting to the foyer – it was too visible, too hazardous. At this precise moment however, Charlotte didn't give herself very much of a choice: she took the pathway that Erik was the least likely to take. There was a small crack of light shining in to the darkness from where the bottom of the picture's frame and the stone wall didn't quite meet, and that alone had her breathe a sigh of relief. Charlotte undid the three secured latches and swung the painting open like a door, carefully jumping the few feet down to the floor. It was nearly midnight by now, no one would be at the Opera house and those that lived there would be asleep. The heels of her shoes made a tapping sound as her feet hit the ground, and she then replaced the portrait to its original position against the wall.

"Charlotte?" A voice echoed through the marbled hall. Charlotte whipped around to see none other than the Vicomte de Chagny standing across the room from her. She swallowed hard and her eyes widened slightly "Monsieur de Chagny" Charlotte said quietly, trying to keep calm. Raoul walked up to her, looking between her deep eyes and the portrait behind her "May I ask what is behind that painting?" he asked her, almost accusingly. "Just a shortcut… it um… leads from here to the dressing rooms…" Charlotte said, silently cursing herself for not having Erik's lying abilities. The Vicomte raised a skeptical eyebrow at her, before moving around her to finger the edge of the picture frame "You won't be able to get in" Charlotte told him quickly "It locks from the inside" she paused, collecting her thoughts before adding "The only people who ever use it are the dancers and some of the stagehands" Raoul looked at the picture up and down, futilely trying to pry it from the stone it lay against. He glared at her slightly "You're a terrible liar, Charlotte" he told her blatantly.

She bit her lip and gave a curt nod "Well, I must be going. Have a good evening Raoul" she said quietly, hoping that she would be able to make her exit as she headed towards the grand staircase. Charlotte was only a few steps away from him before Raoul caught her arm, spinning her around to face him. "Tell me the truth" he demanded, though not cruelly. "I can't" she hissed, trying to pull herself from his grip, but he held her arm firmly. "Yes you can. You know something, don't you? Perhaps about The Phantom?" he questioned, beginning to put the pieces together. If there _was_ a secret passage behind the painting, why couldn't there be others all through the opera house? How else was a supposed phantom to move through the place without being noticed? Of course, not everyone would know of the passageways; that would defeat their purpose. But how would Charlotte know of them, if she didn't know something of the ghost?

It was at that moment Charlotte was faced with a dilemma: on one hand, she couldn't give up her secret… his secret… _their_ secret. But wasn't that exactly what Erik had done? He'd shown Christine the lair, and if it wasn't for Charlotte ducking in to her bedroom in the nick of time, he would've given it all up. "Why should I trust you?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "I haven't given you much of a reason not to" he retorted, loosening his grip by a fraction of an inch. Charlotte sighed – Christine obviously trusted him… "It's a long story" she said. Raoul's hold on her arm moved to her hand, as he guided her to sit with him on the staircase. "I suppose I should start at the beginning…" she sighed, noticing then that Raoul's hand was still joined with hers. It didn't feel right… it didn't feel wrong.

"When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a prima ballerina. I used to dance all the time; sometimes I would dance on the street for money. Our family was very poor… I suppose I was lucky my parents didn't sell me. When I turned seventeen, I auditioned to be a chorus girl here. I don't think I must've seemed very impressive, seeing as I was wearing these horribly old ripped clothes and all I had was a worn pair of ballet shoes… either way, I wasn't accepted – they said I wasn't high-class enough. Of course, you can imagine I was rather upset after that: I ran out into the bitter cold and just sat on the street, sobbing like a child. I was freezing, and I thought that I might as well have died right there, seeing as my life probably wouldn't be getting any better. Then, from out of nowhere, someone draped a black cloak around my shoulders. When I turned around there was a masked man, grabbing me by my shoulders and ushering me down a cellar that lead from the opera house. There was a series of tunnels that lead to a beautiful room, with an organ and filled with candles… it was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen."

"He sat me in front of the fire, and told me I was crazy, that I could've frozen to death. I asked him what his name was; he simply said 'The Phantom'. Then, I didn't know what that meant, so I simply thanked him for his kindness. He told me that he'd seen me dance, and that I had so much potential that the managers were fools to have refused me. For some reason, I felt happier than I had in a while… it might've just been the fact that someone other than my parents thought I was a good dancer. When I told him that I wouldn't burden him any longer, he nearly demanded that I stay the night – I'd just nearly caught hypothermia, and it wasn't like I had much to go home to anyways. So I stayed the night. The next morning he woke me, and told me to go back to the Opera; that the managers had reconsidered my audition. He led me out back to the streets, and said that at the end of the day to come back to the cellar doors. When I asked why, he said 'Because you know', and left."

"And you didn't think for a moment that he might be dangerous? You didn't even ask about the mask or the secret room?" Raoul asked her in disbelief. Charlotte shook her head "He'd just saved my life… it wasn't my place to question what he wore or where he lived" She sighed lightly "When I went back to the managers, they said they'd made a gross mistake and overlooked my talent. They gave me a proper dress and new ballet shoes and I danced all day. At the end of the day, I went back to the cellar, and 'the Phantom' took me back down to the room. I remember he said to me 'You're to be living here now. You know too much of me' and I accepted without a second thought. It didn't matter that I'd just met him; it was the first step to a better life for me. He showed me the secret passages that lead around the Opera, and gave me my own bedroom that connected to the music room, and made me swear on my life that I was to keep it all a secret. It wasn't until weeks later that I'd began to hear stories of the Phantom: the murders, the notes. I became very angry with him for not telling me the truth, I screamed at him for the longest time. But he didn't do anything; didn't move, didn't say anything."

"What I saw was the sadness in his eyes – the loneliness. After I'd calmed down, he told me, well, everything: his past, the mask, the opera… and since then we've been nearly inseparable. Until Christine came along that is…" she said, the tone in her voice a mixture of sadness and anger. Charlotte shook her head and abruptly stood from the staircase "There, I've told you everything. I hope you're happy now" she snapped, a little more harshly than she'd intended. Her eyes began to water, all of the emotions she'd been pushing away rushing back to her all at once. Raoul stood slowly, walking up to Charlotte and embracing her tightly. Charlotte, not knowing what else to do, wrapped her arms around the Vicomte's neck and sobbed lightly into his shoulder. Erik stood on the second floor balcony, looking down on the unsuspecting pair, his eyes burning with anger. He wasn't sure if he was angry with Charlotte or the Vicomte, but he did know one thing: the boy would die. He would make sure of it.

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Bonjour! So, for some reason, this chapter was pretty difficult to write for me. I was going to include Erik's backstory, and little bit more Erik/Charlotte fluff, but I just needed to get this chapter out. Let me know what you all think, reviews mean a lot to me!


	5. Chapter 5

When Charlotte returned to the lair, Erik wasn't there, half to her relief. She didn't sleep that much night: half because of the late hour at which she'd finally fallen asleep, half out of worry for and of Erik. What would he do if he found out she'd told Raoul everything? She pushed the thought aside as she tossed and turned in her bed in an unsuccessful attempt to get comfortable. After almost an hour of staring vacantly up and the ceiling, she drifted off into a light, troubled sleep. Erik, however, had positioned himself atop the roof of the Opera Populaire, following the boy with his eyes as the Vicomte left the opera and climbed into the horse drawn carriage that waited patiently on the side of the street. As soon as the carriage was too far off to see, Erik swiftly walked from the rooftop and began through the passageways towards the lair. He wanted so badly to be angry with Charlotte – she'd told the fop everything. She'd betrayed him. But he couldn't drive her out of his life like that… he'd miss her… be nothing without her… No. He was _not_ in love with her. He couldn't be; he was in love with Christine.

Upon Erik's arrival of their subterranean home, he found Charlotte asleep in her bed, wrapped up in blankets. He could tell she'd shed a few tears – her skin was paler than usual (if that was even possible) and her eyes were reddened. He knelt beside her bed, letting his hand wander ever so lightly across her cheek. She unconsciously leaned in to his touch, and Erik gave a small smile at his Charlotte. _His_ Charlotte - not Raoul's. He stood and turned out of the room, melting in with the shadows. Charlotte stirred, feeling Erik's surprisingly warm touch even long after he'd left, and sleepily blinking into the dark. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, head throbbing from the unusual amount of sleep loss. Giving up on the concept of sleep, she slipped out of bed, waking up suddenly when her bare feet hit the cold stone floor beneath her (and only then realizing that she'd forgotten to from her clothing to her nightdress). Charlotte sauntered out of her bedroom and peered out into the music room, a lump forming in her throat when she saw Erik at his organ, idly stroking the keys to produce random chords.

She swallowed her fear, knowing she would have to face Erik sooner or later (whether he knew about Raoul or not). As nonchalantly as she could manage, Charlotte moved to sit in the desk chair and began looking through the various pieces of sheet music in front of her. "Trouble sleeping?" Erik asked, in his lyrical voice. Charlotte nodded "Stress I suppose. What with the opera and the new patron…" "Oh, my dear, I don't believe you need concern yourself with the Vicomte." Erik cut her off, with a slightly evil smirk that was accentuated by the stark white mask. Charlotte's eyes snapped up to stare into the Phantom's golden ones "What do you mean Erik? Surely he can't already have done anything to upset you already?" Erik raised an eyebrow at that. "Defending him, are we?" he scowled "Envious, are we?" she bit back. The two sat in a heavy silence for a while, before Charlotte stood. "I should be getting to rehearsal" she said quietly, straightening her dress and gingerly getting into the boat. As she pushed from the stone dock, Charlotte could have sworn she heard Erik say "Say hello to Raoul for me"

Charlotte took her usual morning route to the opera house, spending the trip thinking about how much easier things had been before the Vicomte came in to her life. When she arrived in the dressing room that morning, she saw Meg grasping Christine's hands excitedly "Oh Christine, how wonderful!" Meg squeaked. "What's wonderful?" Charlotte asked, tying her ballet shoes. The two ballerinas, who had wide smiles plastered across their faces, rushed over to Charlotte, nearly knocking her over. "Oh Charlotte! Raoul's asked me to dinner" Christine said "He said he hopes we can rekindle what we had as children!" Charlotte smiled warmly "That's magnificent" she said; maybe it would ease her tension with Erik if Raoul were to court Christine. The girls began rehearsal on stage as per usual, when Madame Giry suddenly stopped their practice partway through the ballet of Act 3. "Ladies, I have been informed that there is to be a change as to the opening of _Faust_. The premier night is now to be in two days, following the masquerade ball that is to take place tomorrow evening" The dancers rushed into a soft buzz of excitement, which was cut short by the ballet mistress' cane tapping the stage, sending the girls back into rehearsal.

Raoul, having decided to be a proper patron and see what his money was going into, came to the opera house nearly every day to watch practices, sort things out with the managers, or to walk 'aimlessly' around the Populaire. It would be a lie to say he wasn't intrigued by the Phantom, especially now that he knew the ghost was real. However, Raoul had told Charlotte he was trustworthy in keeping her secret, and he intended to remain so – even if he felt an unparalleled desire to unmask this monster and end his reign. The Vicomte on that day observed the rehearsal, sitting towards the back of the theatre, watching Charlotte and Christine in particular. It occurred to him that the two ballerinas looked very similar in their skin, their hair, even their eyes '_Perhaps that was why the Phantom had found himself attracted to Christine in the first place_' he thought. It was plain to Raoul that the ghost must love Charlotte: to live with such a wonderful girl for years, how could he not?

The Vicomte watched as Madame Giry announced the news of the masquerade, and began to fiddle with the cuffs of his jacket absent-mindedly. He thought he might have fallen asleep right there in the theatre seat if it hadn't been for the flourish of black cloth in the rigging that caught his eye. Raoul sat bolt upright and moved his gaze along the rafters. Paranoia and suspicion: that's what must be causing it. It was probably just that drunken scene shifter…. no, the figure was too tall, too strong to be Buquet. Raoul followed the shadowy figure with his eyes, watching as he moved along the wooden beams with cat-like stealth until he disappeared in the darkness. The Vicomte locked eyes with Charlotte onstage who, even though Raoul was nearly at the back of the theatre, met his cold stare. He could tell she'd seen him too; was it that the infamous Phantom was getting less careful? Or maybe he was always there, but it was more obvious to one who knew indefinitely if his existence.

That evening, when the rehearsal had ended and left the ballet girls exhausted, Charlotte walked from the stage to the back of the Populaire where Raoul was now standing. She gave a polite greeting to the patron, as was expected of anyone who was below him in status, which he casually returned. Charlotte fumbled with her hands awkwardly for a few moments, before simply saying to Raoul what needed to be said "Don't look for him. _Please_" He looked at her slightly coldly "He will not dictate everything I do. And he certainly will not come between Christine and I" Raoul told her defiantly. Charlotte clenched her hands in to fists "Monsieur, if you think I want him to be with Christine, you're mistaken" They both gave a tension releasing sigh "Well what do you suggest we do about it? He's a murderer…" "Please don't say that" Charlotte interrupted with a slight cringe. She cleared her throat "I have an idea. It's crazy though" she told him hesitantly. The Vicomte looked at her curiously "Go on" he implored. "We need to find a way to divert their interests from each other. We both know thatthey each have feelings for us, and if we could make them… _jealous_, per say…." "You can't seriously be suggesting that you and I... court?" Raoul cut off, slightly in disbelief. "Not in actuality" Charlotte said hurriedly "Just… pretend. Maybe it'll help them each sort their priorities" she said.

Raoul sighed. Would it work? What if it just ended up hurting Christine? Or Charlotte… He couldn't just let the masked villain take his Little Lotte. "Alright. Tomorrow, at the masquerade ball" The Vicomte told her. Charlotte nodded "Until then" she whispered. "Until then" he returned, kissing the back of her hand before making his exit. She felt a warm blush rise to her cheeks, and returned to the dressing rooms hastily. "Charlotte? Where were you?" Christine asked when her friend finally arrived. Charlotte smiled warmly "I was talking to Raoul" Christine raised an eyebrow "What about?" she asked interestedly. "He was nervous about taking you to dinner and wanted some advice" Charlotte told her, praying her lie was convincing. Christine's face lit up and she hugged her friend tightly, before moving around her with a friendly goodbye and leaving the decreasingly crowded room. Charlotte sat in front of one of the mirrors that hung on the paint-peeling wall, lightly tracing her reflection with her finger. There was a small part of her that hoped Erik was behind the mirror, staring back at her. There was also a small part of her that hoped Raoul was missing her. At the moment however, neither of those seemed very probable.

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Bonjour! Again, these chapters are getting increasingly more difficult to write, so I apologize for the delay in getting them out. Next chapter may take a little while longer to get out, because a lot of things are going to happen in it, but please be patient. On another note, I'm loving all of the reviews I'm getting on this story - and I do take ALL of them in to consideration; some of them are changing the way I originally thought this story was going to go. But keep 'em coming, they really help. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

"No, no, no! The tables need to be placed on the far side of the room!" Firmin shouted, wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. Andre gave a laugh and placed his hand on the other manager's shoulder "Firmin, you must relax! Tonight is supposed to be about entertainment and Elysian peace!" he said with a smile. Firmin groaned "You can't possibly expect me to relax Andre! The sudden change in the opera's opening night, the new patron, and that damned ghost! It's doing nothing for my nerves…" The men watched as dozens of people moved tables and chairs, arranged music stands for the orchestra, and scrubbed the floors spotless: the Opera Populaire had never looked so pristine. "Come now, we haven't gotten a single note in days!" Andre exclaimed, slightly relieved. "That's even more of a reason to worry!" Firmin said, turning on his heels and quickly walking back towards the managers' office, Andre right behind him.

Erik watched the managers in amusement from the shadows. Did they really think he'd left them for good? He smirked – tonight would be something of a mark, to make sure everyone knew who _really _ran the opera house. He glided through the stone corridors back to the music room, where Charlotte had disappeared in to her bedroom for what had now been about two hours. There wasn't to be a rehearsal today, as the preparations for the ball were underway. Erik sat at his desk, organizing sets of papers that were sloppily scattered everywhere: piles of Don Juan Triumphant sheet music, rough notes to the managers, even a few of Charlotte's sketches. There was one sketch he always kept on his desk, because it always seemed to brighten his mood - it was a picture she'd drawn almost a year ago:

_It was probably just after midnight, and although Charlotte had had a full day of ballet practice, she simply couldn't sleep. She crept out of her bedroom and into the music room, where Erik was sitting perfectly straight in front of his organ, composing. Charlotte walked in to the room and sat on the floor between the desk and the organ, perfectly content in listening to Erik play. He noticed her presence obviously, and played a little lighter "Can't sleep?" he asked her, already knowing the answer. All he got in return was a smile as Charlotte turned towards the desk, grabbing a blank sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal. She stared at the lake for the longest time, wondering what on Earth to draw, before submitting. "Erik, what should I draw?" she asked, looking at him. He gave a sigh, hating to be interrupted in the middle of composing, and shrugged "Something beautiful" he said distantly. Charlotte pondered for a while, before her eyes lit up and she set to work on her newest masterpiece. Nearly an hour later, she yawned and her eyes started to close, so she placed her picture on the desk and returned to her bedroom. Erik played a few bars, before his curiosity got the better of him and he went to Charlotte's sketch: it was a portrait of him, without his mask on, and cursive words that read 'Something Beautiful'_

The Phantom was snapped from his reverie by the sound of a door opening, and footsteps on the stone floor behind him. He turned to see Charlotte, looking more beautiful than she ever had: she wore a black and white ball gown that sparkled in the candlelight, her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and a snow white mask covered the right side of her face. Erik gave a half scowl, half smile at her "All this, just for the fop?" he scathingly asked. Charlotte rolled her eyes "Too much?" she said sweetly, smoothing out the ball gown. He grinned slightly "You look beautiful" he admitted with a light sigh. Charlotte moved beside him and stroked his unmasked cheek gently, causing Erik to let his eyes flutter closed. She stalked away from him, towards the entrance to the passageways that didn't involve crossing the lake, leaving him standing in the music room alone. After she'd gone, Erik clenched his fists and swore under his breath "Love…" he growled.

Charlotte pivoted through the secret hallways, taking the ones that would lead her to the cellar doors that lead to and from the Opera. She hadn't realized how cold it was until the air and snow hit her bare shoulders. Quickly making her way to the front of the Populaire, she found the streets were insanely crowded with people; either the rich, or those catering to the rich. She traipsed up the front steps, swiftly weaving in and out of the sea of people, and ducked in to the warmth of the indoors. The golden foyer was immaculate; the gold shone even more brightly, and the floor was so spotless that Charlotte could see her own reflection. The room was already filled with people in costumes and masks; some wearing bright reds and greens, others dark blues and black. The orchestra had been placed on the second floor, and the conductor stood with his back to the balcony railing, directing the beautiful music that was being softly played. She saw Christine enter the Opera just moments after she herself had arrived, and greeted her friend with a hug and a smile "Isn't it beautiful Christine?" Charlotte asked, looking around the room. "You mean the Opera or you?" she replied. Charlotte smiled and gave Christine a friendly nudge. Christine was wearing a pink and blue dress that had intricate designs in glitter across the skirt, and had a silver mask on that accentuated her eyes a great deal.

"Look," Christine whispered "There's Raoul" she gestured over her shoulder. Sure enough, there was Raoul, a few feet away, deep in conversation with some important-looking men. Charlotte looked over at him and Raoul caught her gaze, giving her a smile which she gladly returned. The orchestra took a pause to change melodies, and began playing a common dance piece. Most of the couples took to the floor, bowing to their partners and beginning a slow, graceful dance. Raoul politely excused himself from the conversation he was invested in, and strode over to Christine and Charlotte. Christine grasped Charlotte's hands excitedly, only releasing her grip when Raoul was in front of them. Raoul bowed and took Charlotte's hand, kissing the back of it "May I have this dance?" he inquired of Charlotte. She smiled "Of course" and with that, the pair joined the other dancing couples, leaving Christine standing there wide eyed. Raoul wrapped his arm around Charlotte's waist and took her other hand, while she wrapped her free arm around the Vicomte's neck. The dance slowly with the music, their faces inches apart from each other.

"Is he watching?" Raoul whispered into her ear. Charlotte's eyes darted around the room, catching a flutter of red and black cloth and a cold stare on their course. "Yes" she whispered back "Is she?" Raoul looked over Charlotte's shoulder to see Christine with her arms folded across her chest, staring at her shoes "Yes" he said. Raoul twirled Charlotte and the dance began to quicken, but everyone kept up with the tempo easily; all the while, Charlotte and Raoul's eyes stayed fixated on each other. As soon as the music had come to a climax, it began to slow again just as quickly. As the orchestra played their last few notes, Raoul looked at Charlotte directly in the eyes and tilted her head upwards, pushing his lips against hers. Charlotte was startled momentarily, but soon began kissing him back, draping both of her arms around his neck and leaning into him. He pulled away first for a breath, and Charlotte was immediately blushing. Raoul smiled "Just pretend, right?" he whispered. Charlotte nodded shyly, and folded her hands in front of her.

Suddenly, the entire room went dark. There were surprised gasps from the crowd, especially when the candles re-lit of their own accord. A burst of fire illuminated the landing of the grand staircase, causing people to reel backwards. When the flames died out, a man dressed as Red Death stood menacingly on the staircase, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Charlotte's eyes widened, but she didn't move from her place. Raoul had stepped in front of her slightly, hand tightly gripping the sword on his hip. The managers had pushed their way through the crowd, along with Piangi and Carlotta (who had returned solely for their 'devotees'), but shrunk back slightly at the sight of none other than the Phantom of the Opera. Red Death smirked "Why so silent good messieurs?" he asked "Did you think that I had left you?" Christine had moved from behind Charlotte to beside her, eyes locking on her angel. Erik's eyes scanned the room, firstly landing on Andre, Firmin, Piangi and Carlotta.

"Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera!" he proclaimed, tossing a leather bound book at Firmin, who readily caught it: on the front, printed in a gold scrawl, was written "Don Juan Triumphant". The Phantom unsheathed the sword that hung from his hip, and pointed the tip at Piangi's throat "Our Don Juan must lose some weight" the sword moved from his throat to his stomach "It's not healthy for a man of Piangi's age" Piangi looked slightly offended, but his fear masked it well. Erik moved on to Carlotta, the sword resting at her neck "Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting around the stage" she gasped, giving the Phantom an icy glare, which resulted in the pushing of the sword slightly deeper into her skin. Erik spun on the heels of his leather boots to face Andre and Firmin, just pointing the blade in the general direction of the two men "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, _not_ the arts" Andre swallowed hard, and Firmin nodded.

Satisfied with the results he had gotten so far, Erik turned to his love, his angel, and the fop. He pushed the rapier's tip against Raoul's chest, stepping closer to him "I don't think you understand what I'm capable of, boy. It seems you've made me have to prove to you I am not one to toy with" Erik raised the sword to the Vicomte's throat, pushing it far enough to draw blood. Charlotte made a slight gasp at the sight of the blood, which immediately caught the Phantom's attention. He raised a gloved hand to gently grab Charlotte's hair and pull her close "Your chains are still mine" he growled, pushing her away from him. Raoul caught her arm, steadying her, but Charlotte was still staring directly at Erik. His attentions, however, were turned to Christine. The two stared softly at each other "Angel…" Christine whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw Raoul reaching for his sword. "Gentlemen, consider this a reminder that _I_ truly run this opera!" he proclaimed, returning to the landing of the stairs, a curtain of fire appearing in front of him. Raoul ran up the stairs, and as soon as the fire a dissipated enough, he saw that the masked man had disappeared through a trap door in the floor, which was still partially open. Raoul jumped through the opening before it could close, which it did seconds after he'd gone through it.

The crowds of people were in a panic, as Andre and Firmin vainly tried to control the masses. Christine and Charlotte looked at each other for a moment, before each running off in separate directions; Christine towards the dressing room, and Charlotte towards the secret staircase. There was no telling what Erik would do if he found Raoul below the Opera; Charlotte only prayed that she find him before Erik did something unnecessary.

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Hey guys! Long chapter, eh? It took me a while to get my thoughts together, and even longer to write. I have to give creds to Feral Piper for helping me write a good bit of this. Just a warning, I'm going to be a tad cruel to Raoul next chapter. I'd like to hear your thoughts though: who here is expecting a Raoul/Charlotte and who's expecting an Erik/Charlotte? Keep the reviews coming guys, they really help my thought process. Merci :)


	7. Chapter 7

Raoul awoke slowly, head pounding and chest freezing. It took him a few conscious moments to realize that he was hanging about two inches off of the stone floor, a rope binding his wrists together above him, light weights tied around his ankles, and that he was indeed shirtless. It was dark, and his visibility was limited to whatever was in front of him; a door, a stone wall, and his sword, just out of reach. The Vicomte had no idea how long he'd been hanging there, but his arms hurt terribly. The room was quiet, except for the occasional squeaks of mice and a crackling behind him that sounded like the last moments of a fire. Quickly, the doors in front of Raoul swung open, allowing a shadowy figure to slip inside the room, before shutting once more. "Awake, Vicomte?" a smooth voice said. The Phantom had changed from Red Death to his usual black attire, and white half mask, of course. "Release me!" Raoul raged through gritted teeth, trying to free his wrists from the lasso. The Phantom chuckled darkly "It's no use boy" Erik took Raoul's sword from the ground, and pointed it at the Vicomte's neck "I've decided you need to be taught a lesson" he growled, throwing the blade across the room.

Erik disappeared out of Raoul's visibility, walking behind the fop. Raoul heard a crackling noise and the scraping of metal on stone behind him, and didn't realize what was going on until it was too late. Erik pressed the red hot poker to Raoul's back, taking a sadistic pleasure in hearing the fop scream – even if it was held back slightly (probably the boy trying to salvage some pride). The Phantom placed the poker back in the fireplace, trading it instead for the cat o'nine tails, which hung neatly on the wall. Raoul heard the sound of the leather whip from behind his left shoulder, and bit his lip in preparation. The whip hit his back a moment later, causing the boy to scream loudly. The cat repeatedly hit his skin, and Raoul nearly gave up on remaining conscious when it hit the spot where he had recently been burned. There was blood running down his back, he could feel it; but men with any sort of honour did not faint. Keeping the cat in a tight grip, Erik stalked towards the far corner of the chamber with a cruel smile, sliding a bucket of salt that lay there towards Raoul's body. The Vicomte tensed, knowing the amount of pain that was surely to come "Please, please…" Raoul quietly pleaded, squeezing his eyes shut. The Phantom gave an unforgiving laugh "Begging will do you no good" he said simply, grabbing a handful of salt from the bucket and forcing it against the slashes on the boy's back.

By this point, Raoul couldn't scream; his throat was raw, and the pain was just too intense to do anything other than vomit. Erik dug the salt even deeper in, cherishing the Vicomte's reactions. When he had grown bored of the salt, he returned to the poker, marking a different spot on the fop's back, and then back to the whip and then the salt. It was a brutal cycle, which continued twice more. Just as Raoul's body began to convulse uncontrollably and he began a cold sweat, the lasso was cut, and he landed hard on his knees. He pressed his forehead to the cold stone, but the relief was minimal; especially since Erik grabbed the boy by his hair and threw him on a table, the splintering wood pressing into the deep, irritated cuts. His wrists and ankles were bound by leather belts at the corners of the table, and all he could see was the dark ceiling, blurred by the tears in his eyes. The Phantom's gloved hand gripped Raoul's throat "I will see to it you never see _either_ of them again" he snarled, swiftly walking from the room and slamming the door behind him.

Raoul lay on the table alone in the dark, in more pain than he had ever thought imaginable. As filled with agony as his mind was, at least he wasn't insane "_Unlike that murderer"_ he thought, as droplet of water from the ceiling hit his forehead. Seconds later, another droplet hit the same spot on his skin. And another. And another. And another. Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. Raoul's breathing quickened and deepened, restraining himself from submitting his mind to the insanity and the agony. He writhed against the table, which only resulted in severe pain. He clenched his hands into fists and let hot tears roll down his cheeks, letting most of his resolve slip.

The Phantom, unnoticed by the Raoul, had watch some of the boy's struggling from the shadows, before returning to the music room. He sat at his organ content, all of his frustrations taken out on the fop, and began to play a haunting piece from his memory. He had all but sunk in to his music when, from a distance, he could hear Christine's beautiful voice echoing through the passageways from her dressing room. Erik reveled in the sound for a moment, stopping his playing completely, before tearing through the hallways. Through the mirror, Christine was softly singing 'Angel of Music', a song her angel had taught her, with her right hand pressed against the glass. Erik smiled; no matter how hard the boy tried, she would always be faithful to her angel. "Christine…." he sang in return. Her eyes lit up and her back straightened, pressing her other hand against the mirror as well. "Angel" she breathed "Where is Raoul?" she softly asked. Erik smirked "Why bother with the Vicomte angel? He doesn't love you, but Charlotte instead" Christine gasped "No, that's not true! Raoul loves me, and…" "Then why, my dear, did he kiss her, and not you?" Erik insisted. Christine dropped to her knees, her skirt pooling around her, as she hugged her arms across her chest. "Your angel will always be here for you Christine, especially when those you call your friends are not"

Meanwhile, Charlotte had been making her way through the crowds of people, making up story after story about where it was exactly that she was going. She ran down the spiral stairs when she was finally alone, and moved through the passageways, going as fast as she could in her ball gown. The music room was empty, as were the bedrooms. Charlotte closed her eyes with a slightly shaky breath "Please don't let him be here" she prayed, pressing open the torture chamber doors. She gasped when she saw Raoul, skin deathly pale and covered in a thin sheet of sweat. She was relieved to find him still breathing "_Lucky for Raoul that Erik hates him enough to let him live in pain rather than die in peace" _she thought. Charlotte put her hands on either side of the Vicomte's head "Raoul! Raoul!" she whispered, causing him to open his eyes. She smiled down at him and undid the leather belts that held him down. "Charlotte?" Raoul inquired weakly, unsurely. She placed a hand lightly on his chest "Oh God Raoul, I'm so sorry" she said, attempting to help Raoul up. He managed to sit up slightly from the table, before crying out from the pain. Charlotte raised an eyebrow, before seeing the inflamed, crisscrossed gashes across his back "I didn't know he would do this" she told him quickly. Charlotte ran from the room, returning moments later with a cloth and a bucket of water. Raoul cringed when the cold, wet cloth touched his back, but it did provide a slight relief.

Raoul felt as though he may have vomited again, but restrained himself in Charlotte's presence. Charlotte gingerly dabbed the cloth along the injuries, wringing out the blood into the bucket. After she'd wiped away the access blood, and as best she could cleaned the wounds before any serious infection got to them, she gave the cold cloth to Raoul to hold against his forehead. "Will you be alright here for a few minutes?" she asked him quietly, as though speaking to a child. When Raoul nodded, she fled from the room; she'd heard footsteps along in the passageways, heading towards the music room, and she knew exactly who they belonged to. Charlotte entered the room at the same time as Erik; she in a rage, Erik in a waking dream. "How could you do such a thing!?" she raged as soon as she was in front of him. Erik's eyes narrowed "I see you found the boy" he stated "He did not wish to follow my instructions, so I proved to him what I was capable of" "It's barbaric! What, because you can't possess Christine, you need to torture the one that loves her?" "She is mine!" he spat, their faces inches apart "How can you be so horrible?" she screamed "How can you be so naive?" he returned, grabbing Charlotte's shoulders, and pulling her into a deep kiss.

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Bonjour! I hate to say it, but I almost felt bad for torturing the fop. I know this chapter moved through very quickly, and for that I must apologize. Also, looking back on the other chapters, I have to apologize for any incorrect spelling, sentence structure, and verb tenses; my ideas change so rapidly sometimes I miss some vital editing. Thank you everyone for the reviews, I love getting them (especially the ones that show me you guys are really getting into this story). Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

Raoul blinked wearily into the darkness, the cold cloth on his head rapidly turning warm at the temperature of his forehead. The Vicomte pushed himself from the table, tears stinging his eyes when he finally stood _"I need to get away from this place" _he thought, though it was easier thought than done. He willed himself to walk as far as the doorway before nearly collapsing, and using the stone wall to support himself. The passageway in front of him was long, and led into pitch blackness on either side with no signs of any life or light. He supposed that he had a half and half chance going in either direction, so he chose the pathway on his right. He groped along the cold walls, seeing nothing ahead of him, cringing whenever he shifted his back in such a way that it irritated the gashes. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, and between the time he had spent in the torture chamber and in the passage, days could have gone by and the Vicomte wouldn't have been able to tell.

Christine, meanwhile, was in quite a similar situation. Her angel had left her only minutes ago, and yet she already felt empty without his presence. She'd looked around the room in a frantic desperation, so as to try and discover how she could get to him, and noticed nothing out of place. Then, she remembered when her angel had taken her to his home – the wonderful, golden room. _How had he gotten her there?_ She tried to think, before remembering that beautiful night. "The mirror" Christine stole to the large mirror, fingering the edges carefully. She pulled the mirror's frame as hard as she possibly could from the wall, and (to Christine's surprise) it opened with a small click – the door seemed to not have been closed properly. Christine forced the door as wide open as its mechanics would allow, and slipped into the dark passageway that lay behind the mirror. As soon as she was in the cold hallway, the spring loaded doors snapped shut, leaving the girl in total darkness.

She hesitantly walked through the stone corridor, without having the faintest idea of where she was or where she was going; even though she'd been walking for near ten minutes, her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark. As she turned a sharp corner, she stumbled, though instead of falling on the ground, she fell on to something – or rather, someone. "Raoul!" Christine exclaimed, climbing to her feet and helping the Vicomte up as well. Raoul grit his teeth, absolutely refusing to show any sort of weakness in front of Christine, even though his back was throbbing. "Christine…" he said quietly "Thank God you're alright" he pulled her into a light embrace, which Christine returned. As her arms wrapped around his shoulders, she felt his bare back, and the blood that was running down it. Her eyes widened and she pulled away from him quickly, looking between his blood on her hands and Raoul's paled face. "What…. He…." She stuttered as her hands began to shake. Raoul darted forward and grabbed her wrists "Listen to me Christine" he said slowly, calmly "We need to get away from here – the both of us – far away" Christine nodded, relaxing in his grasp "Do you remember how to get back the way you came in?" Raoul asked, having drudged alone in the darkness for far too long. Christine nodded unsurely "This way I think" she said, pulling him along behind her.

After another few minutes, Christine had to admit to Raoul that she was lost, much to both of their disappointments. They each felt along opposite walls, hoping for a door or a hatch to escape through "Here!" Raoul cried out, as his hand felt along the edges of a wooden door. He pulled the handle open, letting Christine through and then himself, and promptly shut the door behind them. What the pair did not notice however, was the thin line of string that ran from the inner door handle, along the ceilings, through the corridors, and into the music room. The string tugged lightly on a small bell, which was mounted on the upper wall near the organ. The light ringing managed to capture the Phantom's attention, causing him to pull away from a very disoriented Charlotte. "I believe, my dear, that our guest has managed to find his way from my torture chamber" he said in his usual fearsome demeanor. He held a gloved hand out to Charlotte, who unsteadily took it, and he pulled her from the room. Charlotte didn't question where they were going; all she knew was that she was very, very confused, and Raoul was most definitely in trouble.

The two disappeared in the darkness, taking a set of hallways that lead to a small room with a trap door in the ceiling. The trap-door lover whisked the hatch open in one swift motion, climbing up into the space above the room, and reached down to help Charlotte through the door (as she was still wearing her ball gown, which was very bothersome). The trap door led to the narrow balcony of a circular, stone room. It was dark, and if Charlotte hadn't been as careful as she was, she would have fallen to the ground below. Erik, on the other hand, moved as gracefully and quietly as a cat along the upper circle, stopping in the center and turning to face the room below. Charlotte stood beside him, peering down as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light: through the shadows, she could see two figures – that of Raoul and Christine. The two were desperately looking around, feeling the walls for someway of escape "It's useless!" Christine sighed "We'll never get out of here!"

Erik smirked "Leaving so soon?" his baritone voice echoed through the high ceilinged room, bouncing off of walls and surrounding all four of them. Christine jumped, clutching to Raoul who winced, but held her behind him none the less. The lovers' heads whipped around the room, trying to find the Phantom, or at the very least where his voice was coming from. "Show yourself Phantom!" Raoul shouted, seemingly to thin air. Erik's laughter boomed throughout the rooms, so much so that Raoul could almost _feel_ it. The Phantom jumped from the balcony, black cape flaring behind him, as he landed inches away from the boy. Raoul skittered back, Christine still clutching his shoulders, Charlotte watching the whole affair from above. The boy swallowed his fear and took a step closer to the Phantom "You're nothing but a man who hides behind a mask. You're _weak_" Raoul regretted the words the moment they came from his mouth.

The Phantom grabbed the fop by the neck and threw him against a wall, pinning him there by his throat. "Raoul!" Christine shouted, rushing to his aid, but a sharp glare from Erik stopped her dead in her tracks. "You've been a thorn in my side for far too long, Vicomte. I should have killed you when I had the chance" Erik's grip tightened on Raoul's neck, so much so that Raoul started gasping and writhing for air. Charlotte's eyes widened – Erik was actually going to kill him. She looked to Christine, hoping that she would sway Erik's opinion… but the girl just stood there, petrified. Charlotte, deciding to take matters in to her own hands, jumped from the balcony, landing near Christine "_Stop_" Charlotte growled, causing Erik to not lessen the pressure on Raoul's throat, but not to increase it either. "Protective of the boy now?" The Phantom bit back. "Erik, _stop_" Erik jolted backwards, whipping around to face Charlotte and letting the Vicomte fall to the ground, gasping for air. Charlotte and Erik locked eyes, each giving the other an icy glare.

The room fell into a deep silence for a moment, and Raoul made a desperate attempt to get to his feet, before the Phantom's foot came down on his scarred back, pinning him to the cold stone floor. Erik ground the toe of his boot into the cuts, causing Raoul to sully his composure and cry out. "Angel… please" Christine's wavering voice said, as a tear rolled down her cheek at seeing Raoul in such pain. "Don't you see Christine? With the boy out of the way, we can be together – forever" Erik said in a soft, gentle voice. Christine swallowed hard "Angel, you don't need to hurt him – I'll be with you always" Christine told him quietly, before running up to him and kissing him. Erik was shocked, but returned the kiss greedily. Charlotte paled, and immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, turning her head away: it almost physically hurt her to see them kiss. All but Christine noticed this, yet nothing was said or done. Christine pulled away from the kiss first, and looking between Erik and Raoul's eyes fainted in the Phantom's arms. He laid her carefully on the floor, and ground his boot so roughly against Raoul's back that the boy as well passed out. Charlotte turned around to face Erik "And here I was, stupidly thinking you loved me" she scoffed, her eyes watering slightly. "I never said I didn't"

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Hey guys! I'm sorry for the wait, and also for the quality of this chapter - I've had a massive writer's block, and I just need to get this chapter out. I know this is dragging a bit, and also repeating some previous events, but next chapter I'll try and pick things up. Please, let me know what you thought and, by all means, give me your ideas for what you would like to see happen in the story! Merci


	9. Chapter 9

Christine awoke slowly, blinking sleepily, taking time to look at her surroundings: the room was similarly decorated to the music room, with candles everywhere and dark velvets draped around the room, except that this one was filled with Louis-Phillipe style furniture. "Oh, you're awake" came a soft (albeit agitated) voice from Christine's right. She sat up in the bed, turning slightly to her right, and saw Charlotte, fiddling with a silver locket around her neck. Charlotte had changed from her ball gown to a pair of black slacks and a white collared shirt: she almost looked like a female version of the Phantom himself. "Ch-Charlotte? What's going on? Where's Raoul?" Christine asked, flustered. "Raoul's fine; he's with Erik" Charlotte said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Erik… that's his name, isn't it? My angel's?" Christine asked, innocently and curiously. Charlotte grit her teeth at the latter, but nodded none the less. Christine gave a small smile "How are you here? How do you know him?" Charlotte sighed "It's a bit of a long story… It'd probably be best if you just rested now"

However Christine didn't move; didn't even look away from Charlotte's eyes. "What about Raoul?" Christine tentatively asked. Charlotte raised an eyebrow "What about him?" "Do you love him?" The question caught Charlotte slightly off guard, and caused her to break the intense eye contact by staring at the floor "I…" she tried, but could not find the words. "You do, don't you?" Christine said accusingly. "No! Erik…" "Then you love Erik?" Christine continued, getting up from the bed. "Why does it matter who I love to you? Don't you love both of them as well?" Charlotte retorted, rising from the bed with anger in her voice. "Of course! But they both love me in turn" Christine said smugly, folding her arms across her chest. "So, I suppose they don't love me then?" Charlotte questioned "Why would they?" Christine shouted, which was countered by Charlotte with a sharp slap across Christine's face. Both girls were close to tears (equally of anger and sadness) just as the oak doors flew open, revealing Erik as he flew into the room. He grabbed Christine by the shoulders and forced her out the doors and into the music room, giving Charlotte a half glare, half look of apology as he did so.

Charlotte chased after the pair, following Christine's petrified gaze to Raoul, who was bound to the portcullis, a noose loosely around his neck. "Raoul!" Christine shrieked, about to jump in to the lake to get to him before Charlotte caught her waist, and pulled her back. Christine tore from Charlotte's grasp and glared at her "You'd drown. You can't swim" Charlotte grit quietly, returning the cold stare. Erik had moved to stand at the steps that led from the lake to the music room, the end of the lasso noose that Raoul wore in his hand "Now Christine, you must choose at last: are you his or mine?" Erik asked, yanking the rope so much so that Raoul gasped for air slightly. "Stop this madness! I love her! Does that mean nothing? I love her! Show some compassion!" Raoul shouted, trying to wriggle his bound wrists free. Erik gave a pitiless laugh "The world showed no compassion to me, Vicomte" he retorted, before quickly giving Charlotte one of his rare soft and apologetic looks. The only compassion the world had ever shown him was Charlotte… was he really about to ruin that?

"Erik! Please stop! I love you both!" Christine pleaded, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I love you more than he ever could. I would give you everything, my angel" Erik said melodiously. Just as Christine found herself falling for him all over again, Raoul's voice broke the trance "Christine _please_. I've loved you since we were children! You'll be the only one I ever love!" Charlotte felt angry tears running down her cheeks: They both gave her their love, and she was abusing it. She clenched her fists tightly, watching as the two people she loved the most throw themselves to the girl's feet for her love – a love Christine had not made herself worthy of. Charlotte blinked away some tears as she spun sharply on her heel, and quickly rushed to the desk, opening the top drawer and grabbing a silver knife from it. No one in the room noticed this until Charlotte grabbed Christine's hair with her left hand, and held the knife to the chorus girl's throat with her right.

"No!" Raoul shouted across the lake, thrashing against his restraints. Erik calmly raised his hands, however his shocked expression was clear "Charlotte…" he began, before she angrily cut him off "No! I will not have _her_ have your love! She treats it like a _game_, Erik. You've been so blind – both of you!" she cried, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, switching her gaze between Erik and Raoul. Christine made a frightened whimper, but dared not move in fear. Erik, however, began to take slow, cautious steps towards Charlotte "Charlotte, please…" Charlotte pressed the knife closer to Christine's throat "I loved you! How couldn't you have noticed? You rejected me for _her_ – I thought I could love Raoul instead. I did. But you fell for her as well!" she said, turning her attention to the somewhat stunned Vicomte. The knife dug hard enough to Christine's throat that it drew a slight cut, and Christine began to sob lightly.

"You _must_ know I love you, Charlotte" Erik said, looking deeply into her eyes "As do I" Raoul added, whether a truth or an attempt to save Christine no one in the room was sure. Charlotte shook her head "But you'll always love her more than me, won't you?" The room was silent. The tension in the air was so thick Raoul could almost physically feel it. Charlotte gave a mirthless laugh "Of course, why would you love me more than her? She's got the voice of an angel, comes from a grand family, and she's beautiful. What can I be compared to Christine Daae?" "You can't possibly compare yourself to her" Raoul said "You're both remarkable in your own ways" Charlotte looked at him with dagger eyes "Would you choose her over me?" she inquired sharply, her voice catching in her throat. "Would you?" she asked Erik softly, emotions nearly overcoming her.

"You have to choose. Both of you. If I can't have your love, neither can she" Charlotte said, with slight guilt in her heart. Was this really what she had succumbed to? Threatening the life of her once best friend for what was probably going to be false love? She had to. Her life wasn't worth living if the two men she loved more than anything would never love her, but Christine instead. "Make your choice. Is it her," she looked to Raoul "Or is it me?" she looked to Erik. This was the point of no return.

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Bonjour! I know, this was quite a short chapter, but I needed it to end where it did. Speaking of which, I'm predicting only another chapter or two until we reach the end of our story. Maybe I'll write a sequel? Let me know what you think. Merci!


	10. Chapter 10: Version 1

"The Vicomte! He has been kidnapped!" "What of Christine Daae? She's missing as well!" "Perhaps they've run off together!" "But wait, that dancer girl has also not been found!" "It's him! The Phantom! He must have done it!" The masses were abuzz with the news of all of the recent disappearances. Soon enough, the crowd of once masqueraders had assembled, each with their own theory of what had become of the three; but the general blame, of course, fell on the masked man. "Track down this murderer! He must be found!" They chanted, taking the Opera Populaire by storm. The entire opera house was shaken by the mob, who were ruthlessly tearing everything apart in their search. "Here!" One of the men shouted, pointing to a set of stairs that spiraled deep below the Opera. A painting in the grand entrance was torn from its hinges "Here!" another shouted, looking up into the secret passageway. The mob divided itself amongst the revealed passages, spilling in to the labyrinth.

The crowd echoed through the stone halls, the noise just faintly reaching the lair. Charlotte's hands began to shake at hearing the distant mass, and her skin turned paler than it had already become. "Please Charlotte, tu est mon seul vrai amour" he spoke softly, knowing Charlotte loved it when he spoke French. Charlotte's throat went dry and her eyes widened, looking at Erik in disbelief "But… Christine…." "I may love Christine Charlotte, but I am in love with you… I always have been" he said, as the voices began to get closer. Charlotte shook her head "You're just saying that so you can have her back" She looked at Erik, who remained emotionless – calm and cool – and so she dropped her gaze, for fear that she would lose her nerve in his deep eyes. She instead looked to Raoul, who returned her gaze with pity and fear. Charlotte swallowed hard, and dropped the knife from her shaking hands, allowing Christine to run to Erik. Charlotte dropped to her knees on the cold stone floor, body wracking with silent sobs.

Christine clutched Erik's shoulders, and Erik gently pushed her behind him. The Phantom slowly strode over to Charlotte, kneeling beside her sobbing figure, and tilted her head upwards. Her watering eyes met his as their lips met in a loving kiss. Christine gasped softly, whipping her head around to look at Raoul in the hopes his loving eyes would comfort her. Raoul gave her a soft look, as though silently telling her that everything would be alright. "Find him!" voices sounded from closer now, and the urgent tension in the room spiked. Erik quickly grabbed the knife from the floor where Charlotte had dropped it, and held the handle of the knife out to Christine. "Quickly, free him" he urged, gesturing to Raoul "Leave here. Forget this place" Christine obediently took the knife from her angel, and darted to the stone steps that descended into the lake, wading through the murky waters towards the portcullis. The water nearly came up to the chorus girl's waist as she cut the ropes from Raoul's limbs and neck, and Raoul dropped about a foot farther into the water when he was freed.

The mob came even closer, so close, in fact, that they seemed to have found one of the lair's farther back rooms, and were tearing it apart. Erik and Charlotte both realized this, and were overcome with a heavy sadness of their home being destroyed. Slowly but urgently, Erik helped Charlotte to her feet, and the two couples looked at each other from across the lake in silence. From not so far off, glass broke and candles fell, and Charlotte squeezed Erik's hand tightly. Erik looked at her for a moment, before respectfully nodding to the Vicomte and Christine, and tore off the velvet curtain that covered a full length mirror. Erik released Charlotte's hand to grab a candlestick holder, and with a strong backswing, cracked the mirror in multiple places, before the glass shattered completely, revealing a darkened hallway beyond. Charlotte stepped into the secret hall, casting one last glance at Christine and Raoul before disappearing into the dark. The Phantom took one last look around the music room, knowing he may never see it again, and he let his eyes wander to the desk, where Charlotte's portrait of him still lay. He thought about picking it up, but the mob had begun to trickle into closer rooms. Erik followed Charlotte's movements, and just before disappearing in to the darkness of the hall, he turned to Christine "I'm sorry". And with that, he covered the passage with the velvet curtain once more.

Christine's eyes watered slightly, and she embraced Raoul tightly. The Vicomte kissed her hair, and led her back to the stone dock, where the boat rested, and the two climbed into it. Raoul steered the boat away from the lair, and Christine did not take her eyes off of the covered mirror. She prayed Charlotte and Erik would find safety before the mob found them. Just as the boat reached the middle of the lake, almost in complete blackness, the mass of people could be heard infiltrating the music room, fires burning the papers and glass being shattered. Christine and Raoul inched their way through the labyrinth after docking the boat, and found themselves in a small room, with nothing but a stairway that lead to a pair of cellar doors. The pair found themselves on the snow covered street outside of the Opera, and Raoul led her quickly to the front of the Populaire, where his carriage had still been waiting. Raoul held the door open for Christine, and taking one last look at the opera house before her, saw two black figures watching her from the roof. She smiled, and then turned to Raoul, who had followed her gaze. "They'll be alright" Raoul reassured her, to which Christine nodded and climbed into the carriage, Raoul on her heels.

The two figures watched the carriage as it pulled away from the Opera, heading off into the grey horizon. Charlotte rested her head on Erik's shoulder, and Erik pulled her into his embrace. Charlotte's tears had dried and her fears subsided; Erik's conscience was clean and he felt loved. It was a comforting feeling for them both, one that needed no explanation. "What now?" Charlotte asked him quietly. Erik smiled and kissed her softly "Oh, I've got a few ideas"

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IMPORTANT NOTE: Alright guys, here's how things are tentatively going to work. I'm going to re-write this chapter, in which it will end up being a Raoul/Charlotte, and post it after this chapter. I'm going to see how many of you guys like one chapter over the other, and the ending you guys liked the best will be the ending I base the sequel to this story on. I hope I didn't dissapoint you with this chapter, and please let me know what you thought. I also apologize for the delay in this chapter, and I'll try to get the alternate ending out soon. Merci!


	11. Chapter 10: Version 2

The confused and flustered masqueraders (those who hadn't fled from the Populaire, at least) had gathered in the grand foyer, accusations and gossip flying "The Phantom! He'll kill us all!" "What if he's already killed the Vicomte?" "Or Christine Daae!" "Track down this murderer!" "He must be found!" The mob of maybe fifty people gathered, abandoning reason for action. A crash was heard from outside, where some of the men from the group had broken a few wooden boxes, and were setting the tops of the wooden planks on fire to use as makeshift torches. Torches were passed around the group, which seemed to fuel the mob's anger and motivation. By chance, one of the torches managed to ignite a tapestry that hung in the foyer, lighting wooden beams throughout the Opera as the Populaire caught fire. The mob however, did not seem to notice, as someone shouted out "Here!" and Charlotte's painting entrance was flung from the wall. With shouts of triumph and aggression, the mass spilled out into the secret tunnels.

The mob made no attempts to stay silent as they bombarded the underground of the Opera House, screaming and chanting. The noises echoed through the stone hallways to the lair, breaking the seemingly impenetrable silence that had surrounding the quartet. "The Phantom of the Opera is there! Deep down below!" rang around them, causing all of them to look off in the direction that the voiced were coming from. Erik turned back to Charlotte in haste "Charlotte, you must let her go. We do not have time" Charlotte's hand had begun to shake more than she could control, and her breathing had quickened and deepened at the increasingly close voices. "Charlotte" Raoul said from across the lake, emotion colouring his words "_Please_. Charlotte lowered the knife a fraction of an inch, and Erik took the opportunity to take it from her grasp and guide her hand away from Christine.

Erik took hold of both of Charlotte's shaking hands after slipping the knife into his coat pocket, lifting one to dry her tears. Once he had her remotely stabilized, he walked over to a wide-eyed Christine and embraced her tightly. She returned the embrace, burying her head into his shoulder, as Charlotte looked away (and consequently ended up looking at Raoul). Sounds of broken glass were heard from not too far off, and Erik quickly pulled himself from the embrace and handed Christine the knife "Release him" he looked to Charlotte "Get to safety" Erik told them, before turning on his heels to leave "Where are you going?" Christine asked, frightened. Erik sighed and looked at them apologetically "To buy time" and with that, he disappeared into a back hallway. Christine watched him go, and then glanced at Charlotte for a moment, before wading through the water to cut Raoul free.

Charlotte watched Christine struggle through the water in her dress, and in a split second decision, dove after her. The pair reached the bound Vicomte, Christine weakly cutting the ropes that bound him while Charlotte tried to untie them. They had almost gotten Raoul free when the mob's voice grew insanely loud all of the sudden, and there were heavy thumps and crashes heard. Christine cut through the final tie holding Raoul, and he dropped into the water with a pained _splash_. The three waded back to the stone platform of the music room, all of them soaking wet by the time they stood in front of the desk in the room. At that moment, the doorway through which Erik had disappeared was illuminated by the bright reds and yellows of torch flames, and the Phantom stumbled back in to the room, collapsing when he was just in front of the trio. Charlotte was instantly at his side, and tilted his head up to look at her: his mask was still covering half his face, but it was broken and blood smeared. He had a black eye and bloodied lip, and from the way he was holding his chest she assumed he had a few broken ribs.

Christine knelt at his other side "Oh Angel…" she said, her eyes watering at seeing Erik in such pain "What… what did they do to you?" she whispered against his lips. "The… the mob…" he managed to say between gasping breaths. Christine pressed her lips to his. And when she pulled away said "We need to leave. Now" Christine helped him to his feet, as Raoul and Charlotte watched from the background. Erik motioned to a door on the far side of the room "That way" he breathed. Christine started helping him towards the doorway, when Erik stopped to look at Charlotte deeply. The stared in silence for each other for what seemed like an eternity, before coming to a silent, mutual understanding. He let Christine take him from the room, without a single word spoken. After he had left, Charlotte simply collapsed to her knees. Raoul knelt by her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head.

"Charlotte, you need to come with me. The mob—" "I don't care about the mob, Raoul. Let them kill me for all I care" she said, her voice weak and quiet. "_Please._ I know how you feel, and know how it hurts" he told her, brushing hair from her face. "How could you possibly know how I feel?" she asked, but not unkindly; more curious and sad. Raoul tilted her chin up to look at him "Because I saw the way you reacted when he kissed her" he said simply, before pressing their lips together. Charlotte looked at him hopefully, as though asking him if he truly meant it. When he nodded and extended his hand, she took it and pulled him towards the boat. Raoul shoved off from the dock and steered them through the black water, Charlotte sitting and looking up and him with a smile. She took him through the cellar doors that opened to the side of the Opera, and made sure the street was empty before they quickly made their way to Raoul's waiting carriage.

As Raoul helped her up the carriage steps, Charlotte's eye was caught by another carriage passing by; through the window was a brunette once-chorus girl sitting opposite a figure cloaked in black. Charlotte smiled down at Raoul, who had also seen the carriage. "I love you" he told her after they'd both climbed into the carriage. Charlotte smiled and kissed him "I love you too" she returned, before asking "When did you realize you loved me?" Raoul smiled "When I figured out _he_ loved you" "Why then?" Raoul smiled at her, holding her hands "We all want what we can't have"

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Right guys, here you go! Sorry for the delay and the length of this version, but things have been rough lately. So let me know which version you liked better, or rather, which version you'd like the sequel to be based from. Speaking of which, I want your opinions on whether the sequel should be Love Never Dies themed, or original. Thank you so much for your support, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts, opinions and comments. I'll be posting a note after this chapter to tell you the decision on the sequel I have reached, so stayed tuned. Merci mes amis!


	12. Sequel News

Bonjour everyone! So the results for the sequel (from the few people who actually gave me their opinions) is that it will be based off Charlotte/Erik, and will be an original sequel. It may have some Love Never Dies elements, but will be for the majority original. Thanks for being so patient, and I'll hopefully have the first chapter posted soon. Stay tuned for "What We've Always Wanted" (or a title similar to that). Merci!


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